Like many gearheads, Justin Hertel’s journey into the world of speed began in high school. Drawn in by the rumble of old-school V8s and the unmistakable charm of American muscle, he quickly found himself on the path to drag racing. But as life tends to do, it redirected his attention. The realities of building a business—Heat Wave Visual—meant shelving his automotive aspirations for a while. That is, until success allowed him to revisit the passion he’d always daydreamed about: building a truly wild street-track machine.
That machine would become his 1988 Pontiac Trans Am.
It wasn’t just any Trans Am. This was a car Justin had long fantasized about transforming—an outdated brute with potential hidden beneath decades of design compromises. Inspired by a friend’s encouragement to try high-performance driving events (HPDEs), Justin eyed the Trans Am for the job. With its raw character and iconic styling, it had the bones of a track beast. All it needed was a new heart—and a lot of patience.
The core transformation began with a golden opportunity. Justin scored a great deal on a Chevrolet LSA engine and TR6060 six-speed gearbox—pulled from a Camaro ZL1. The 700-horsepower supercharged V8 was an irresistible upgrade, one that immediately set the tone for the rest of the build. To support this mountain of power, Justin turned to Detroit Speed Engineering, bolting in everything from a torque box to JRi coilovers, all part of a serious handling makeover.
Of course, brute force is only as useful as the car’s ability to keep it planted. To tame the Trans Am’s 3,420-pound mass, Justin installed 18×11” Rotiform wheels wrapped in fat 295-section Hoosier R7s or Falken RT660s. Wilwood brakes—six-piston up front, four-piston in the rear—helped provide the stopping power needed for a track-bound muscle car. With an unassisted brake setup for more pedal feel and control, things were starting to come together.
Justin hit the track as often as he could—sometimes every other weekend—squeezing laps between work obligations. His car control steadily improved, but the Trans Am, in typical fashion, revealed its flaws under pressure. Chief among them was its cooling system. The low-slung, bottom-fed radiator simply couldn’t handle the heat from the supercharged V8. After an Afco laydown radiator gave out, Justin got creative. He sourced a bar-and-plate radiator from a builder known for trophy truck setups. It helped, but still wasn’t enough.
Eventually, Justin devised a dual-radiator configuration. He cut open the bumper for more airflow and installed a ducted upright radiator behind it. Behind that, he modified the laydown unit to function in a bypass setup. It was a complex solution, but it worked. Finally, the car could survive full sessions without tipping into heatsoak.
Power delivery stayed at stock levels for the most part—at least until he decided to ditch the factory TR6060 gearbox for a six-speed sequential 6XD unit. This billet transmission delivered quicker shifts, reduced the chance of misshifts, and shaved off valuable lap time. Justin particularly appreciated how the crisp, racecar-like shifts brought the car to life. But this upgrade also exposed the limitations of the Trans Am’s rear suspension.
To handle the brutal, instant gear changes of the sequential box, Justin swapped in a Quadralink rear end to eliminate nasty wheel hop. A Ford 8.8” rear axle with a full-floating housing sealed the deal, providing much-needed durability and consistency under hard braking and acceleration.
But even with all the modern touches, Justin admits the Trans Am is still a wild animal. “I’m constantly guessing at the braking zones and wondering, ‘Will it stick?’” he says. The car may look the part and sound the part, but it’s not a precision instrument. It’s more of a riot on wheels—a car that thrills with its aggression but rarely rewards finesse.
Over time, Justin’s racing priorities shifted. The constant mechanical issues, the heat management problems, and the mental toll of tracking such a temperamental machine wore on him. Eventually, he added a Spec Miata to his collection—a car known for its simplicity, reliability, and predictable behavior. “I can hop in and lap all day. I know exactly what it’s going to do, and I don’t worry about anything breaking,” he says.
The contrast between the Miata and the Trans Am couldn’t be starker. Where the Miata offers consistency, the Trans Am offers chaos. Where the Miata asks for skill, the Trans Am dares you to tame it. Still, Justin has no regrets about the build. The Pontiac may not be perfect, but it’s his.
“It’s finally had its first trouble-free weekend—five years later,” Justin laughs. The journey from fantasy to reality has been rocky, but enlightening. He’s come to appreciate the value of predictability over power, simplicity over spectacle. And yet, the Trans Am remains special. A car that turns heads, drops jaws, and never fails to put a smile on his face—even if it doesn’t always make it to the end of the day without a few hiccups.
In the end, Justin’s Trans Am isn’t about lap times or trophies. It’s about personality, about pushing boundaries, and about creating something truly one-of-a-kind. It’s a love letter to muscle car madness—a party animal that refuses to behave.
